


The Memory of You

by CherryFlamingo



Category: Fruits Basket, Fruits Basket - Takaya Natsuki (Manga), Fruits Basket Another, Fruits Basket Another - Takaya Natsuki (Manga)
Genre: Character Development, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Implied/Referenced Child Neglect, Non-Sexual Intimacy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:53:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26431453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryFlamingo/pseuds/CherryFlamingo
Summary: A retelling of Sawa's life and her relationship with Shiki.
Relationships: Mitoma Sawa/Sohma Shiki
Comments: 12
Kudos: 16





	The Memory of You

**Author's Note:**

> Let’s get one thing straight: Sawa and Shiki will not be in an overtly sexual romantic relationship until they’re both at least 18 (hugs and chaste kisses only). This isn’t to say that I disrespect or don't believe in the free will and healthy curiosity that all teenagers have and should have, it’s just that a three-year age gap for people under 20 is pushing it for me (more on this in the last author's note if this ever gets finished, lol). I support this ship because the mangaka presented it in a healthy, symbiotic manner where both individuals feel supported and grow.
> 
> I hope you enjoy my first work in years!

Ages 0-5 

Her father’s existence was like that of a dream, in which her birth was the only evidence of his involvement. If Sawa wrinkled her eyes and scrunched her nose, she would remember the outline of a man in glasses whose chuckles reverberated thinly into the finger she clasped with her tiny, pink hands.

Sweet and tender at the age of 19, Sawa’s mother had met the man while working a flight from England to Japan. Her girlish lightness and interest in his person sparked his attention, and she kept it with lingering touches and glimpses of her desire to please him. His gold watch gleamed under the cabin lights as she handed him another complimentary flute of champagne.

The divorce happened quickly–one year after marriage, two seasons following Sawa’s birth, and three dozen more flights since that first encounter. What remained of him were Sawa’s existence and the child payments that her mother often scoffed at–both of which acted as constant reminders of the older Mitoma’s folly and miscalculation: _surely having a child would make him stay and provide comfort for the rest of my days._

The older Mitoma’s early ambitions marred the lifestyle she sought for herself and ill-prepared her for a life of child-caring, so she denied a reality where parenthood was a longwinded and arduous journey. While most people had no recollection of learning to walk nor talk but had proof in photos, VHS tapes, and swaddled bits of baby teeth kept in Kodak film capsules, Sawa had none. It was not until many years later when Sawa was on the cusp of parenthood that this realization disturbed her more than it saddened her.

Her father’s lack of presence did not bother her. She had no news nor knowledge of his whereabouts, and this freed her from cynical, never-ending games of What Ifs. It relieved her to focus on another aspect of her life: living life as best as she could with her mother.

Age 6

Sawa tried to ignore the sting of the girls’ words as she stared back in disbelief, her brown eyes widening and moistening with every word they spouted. The three girls she had considered her first friends banded in front of her, having found comfort in their larger group size as they overshadowed Sawa under the setting sun. _You are not one of us. You are not welcome here. You are annoying. Go away._

Sawa could not think of anything to say in return, as the lump in her small throat grew and hardened. Their betrayal felt like a slap–sudden, unexpected, and left a mark that ached when she tried to speak.

“Children can be so cruel _,_ ” her mother cooed. “You are no better. You are so helpless.”

Age 8

Sawa can feel sweat beading down her neck as she stared at her indoor shoes. She stood by the chalkboard where twenty pairs of tiny eyes dug into her skin. Her face grew hotter the longer her teacher targeted her with questions she could not answer. "Why haven’t you done the homework for the second day in a row? Why haven’t you asked for help? We went over this days ago and everyone should have picked it up by now."

There was a sense of shame that choked Sawa. Her mind was blank from the effort to not cry and keep her breath steady, both of which were lost causes by the time fourth period rolled around. _Am I so useless that I cannot even do the minimum of what everyone else is capable of?_

There was no one to greet her when she arrived home, no one to hear what woes and joys she experienced in school. The girl took off her shoes and dropped her backpack and jacket by the shoe cabinet before entering the kitchen. The stove flicked on as she placed a dull kettle on top, preparing her fourth ramen dinner of the week.

Age 9

Sawa can count the number of times her mother has suggested leaving the apartment and going out for quality bonding time–a day of cruising through the city’s shopping districts; perusing expensive footwear, and taking pictures at just the right angles to show how _wonderfully_ Sawa was being raised by her loving, caring single mother.

Sawa is also familiar with her mother’s preference for unavailable men, so when her mother brought up the suggestion, she felt a deep pit of _Oh, really?_ at the back of her stomach but readily agreed. She was lonely and desperately wished for some semblance of the motherly adoration she commonly found in her classmates’ parents. Her classmates avoided her as usual.

The loneliness was starting to drive her down a bitter line of thinking. _Was she so worthless that no one would spare a glance at her?_

The back of her mind whispered: _You are nothing_. _You are unworthy of love._

 __The feeling stayed with her as she slipped on her Mary Janes and buttoned her winter coat. It stayed with her when she reached for her mother’s hand, and it followed her when she changed streets. It weighed on her as she waited on the steps of the pedestrian crossing bridge and acted as her only companion during the lone hours she sat in patience, as the temperature slowly dropped, and her tears turned to ice on the edge of her sleeves. Her mother had long left her when her lover called and left empty promises of quickly returning.

The numbness welcomed Sawa, and she burrowed deeper into its dark recesses as the sky turned navy.

Going numb made the pain more bearable, so Sawa closed her eyes and felt herself let go.

Sawa woke up to white ceilings and even brighter lights. Her shoulder and back ached, and her hair matted her face.

 _Where was she?_ She remembered sitting and waiting for her mother to return.

_Her mother… Did she come back for Sawa?_

Hope swelled within her chest before she realized someone sitting next to her, an unfamiliar young boy who stared blankly at her, his eyebrows furrowed a tiny bit.

“Where am I?” Sawa coughed as she tried to get up, wincing as she put pressure on her left arm. “And who are you?”

The boy hesitated before deciding not to speak. He handed Sawa a cup of water before pressing the patient intercom next to her bed. A male doctor entered the room following by a woman who was not Sawa’s mother.

The doctor asked how she felt. “Okay.”

He asked if she remembered her name. “Mitoma Sawa, Sir.”

What about the date? “December 23rd, 2002”

How about her address? “227-0038, Building 489 on Spring Street, Apartment 122H, in the West River District”

Her parents contact information? “I don’t know, Sir.”

Anything before her fall? “No, Sir.”

Did she know she could be less formal? “Yes, Sir.”

Lastly, he asked if she felt pain anywhere, to which Sawa hesitated before shaking her head, “No, Sir.”

To Sawa’s surprise, the boy beside her spoke up, “Her arm seems to be hurting her.”

The doctor–Dr. Sohma, Sawa squinted from his coat, coughed, trying to hide his lapse in response. He seemed just as surprised as she was when the boy voiced his concern. “Is this true, Mitoma-san? You’re not in any trouble. We just want to know so we can help you the best we can.”

Sawa looked down to her left arm and nodded, feeling guilt.

“We’ll have to get her arm x-rayed,” Dr.Sohma said to the nurse next to him, as she dutifully wrote on her clipboard.

“Umm,” Sawa’s voice wavered, “Do you know where my mother is?”

A look of pity flashed in Dr.Sohma’s one visible eye before he tried to smile reassuringly, “Mitoma Sawa, right?” Sawa nodded. “We’ll be reaching out to your mother soon, now that we have your name and address.”

As Dr.Sohma and Nurse Hatake left, Sawa could hear the nurse whisper, “Poor girl, it’s been a day already and still not a missing person’s report. Does her mother even realize she’s been gone?”

Sawa felt her eyes pool with tears as her nose started to drip. _Of course, your mother wouldn’t look for you. You’re worthless._

The boy shifted next to her and the next thing Sawa knew, she was staring at a neatly folded handkerchief embroidered with the initials, S.S. She thanked the boy and unfurled the handkerchief to pat her cheeks.

Before she was could gather herself, a suited man entered the room and called out to the boy, “Shiki-sama, we need to leave now. The clan head is asking for your return.” The boy nodded and hopped off his chair. He slowly made his way to the door before looking back in concern.

“I hope you feel better,” the boy–Shiki, said before turning to leave.

“Wait,” Sawa quickly wiped away more tears, “Will _you_ at least visit me?”

In her current state and age, Sawa was not fully aware of the boldness that emanated from her question. The fear of being alone and forgotten tugged at her, and as a young child, it was natural she sought company and comfort.

The only sign of Shiki’s surprise was the slight gape of his mouth. He had only wanted to slip in and out of her life quietly when he saw her splayed on the concrete. He felt another pang of loneliness from her question and slowly nodded before saying, “I’ll try.”

True to his word, Shiki visited her occasionally. From snippets of conversation Sawa caught, she knew the boy visited on days when he had appointments concerning his breathing with Dr.Sohma. Sawa frowned at the thought. _He seems so young, does this mean he can’t run around and play with the other children?_

Sometimes, Shiki would bring her folded origami boats and planes. It was a source of pride for him and something he had diligently learned from his mother. Sawa ignored her jealousy with as much grace a shy nine-year-old could muster–by nodding and staying quiet and later flattening the origami ornaments to teach herself with as much success one casted arm allowed. After ruining Shiki’s creations twice, Sawa opted to leave the subsequent boats and planes by her bedside to keep her company.

When Sawa’s mother finally came to pick her up after a week at the hospital, the girl felt her relief triumph and wash over her initial disappointment in having to leave her friend. _Mom is here! She hasn’t forgotten about me after all!_

“Sawa, darling, I’m so glad to see that you’re okay!” Her mother ran to her bed and embraced her, as Sawa cried into her stomach. The feeling of relief was so intense, that all instances of her mother’s neglect were immediately forgiven. “Oh Sawa, honey, Mommy is so sorry. She was working so hard at her job and wasn’t able to come earlier. It has been so hard since Daddy left us.” Sawa’s mother cooed and fluttered her eyelashes as Dr.Hatori, as the nurse standing next to him looked scandalized.

Dr.Hatori’s expression remained impassive as he eyed the shopping bags that Sawa’s mother dropped. Sawa nodded mutely into her blouse.

Sawa’s mother pushed Sawa away, “Oh Sawa, you’re ruining my blouse. There, let’s stop crying.” She blotted Sawa’s tears with her pink floral handkerchief.

“Mitoma-san was so brave during her time here,” Dr.Hatori said, bringing Sawa’s mother’s attention to him.

“Yes, that’s my Sawa, after all. I’ve raised her all by myself since my husband left us.” She smiled sweetly at him, using her left hand to cup her heart-shaped face. “It hasn’t been easy with just the two of us. Whatever can I do to thank you for your hard work, Dr.Sohma?”

“It’s no issue at all, Mitoma-san was the perfect patient. She almost makes me wish my wife and I had another child,” he smiled thinly back as he lifted his left hand to his chest. “If you have a moment, we would appreciate you answering a few questions.” He motioned to a man dressed in a black suit outside Sawa's room. 

Sawa’s mother’s face immediately soured. “I don’t know if you’ve realized, Dr.Sohma, I’m an _incredibly_ busy woman. _We_ will _not_ be talking to anyone until we’ve obtained a lawyer. In fact, it’s hard to believe that a little boy would get help for another child unless he had reason to…say, push my sweet Sawa down?” Her eyes had a hard glare to them. Dr.Sohma was taken aback by the woman’s sudden change and felt a headache coming on. “Sawa, pack your stuff. We’re leaving _right now_.”

“Wait,” Dr.Sohma sighed, “We still haven’t discussed aftercare for Mitoma-san’s arm, and you still need to wait for her patient discharge papers.”

“Well? Get to it. You have until we leave, or else I’m calling this a kidnapping.”

Nurse Hatake moved quickly and presented her with the papers to sign and fill.

“Mitoma-san’s arm was fractured when she was brought into our hospital. She won’t need to be back until another month when her cast needs to be taken off. Until then,” Dr.Sohma turned to Sawa, “make sure to keep pressure off of your arm and keep taking your calcium tablets twice a day.” Sawa nodded.

As Sawa’s mother spurred her to hurry and leave the hospital as quickly as possible, Sawa juggled her mother’s shopping bags and gifts. She paid little attention to her surrounding, not even noticing the concerned gaze of a boy three years younger holding a small bouquet of get-well flowers.

**Author's Note:**

> I love leaving reviews and kudos for every single work I read because they're great for encouragement and feedback. 
> 
> Any review or kudos would be greatly appreciated :)


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